Now Retold: Fall Special
by Antigone1Evenstar
Summary: Glorfindel tells a special tale. Erestor responds. Fem!Harry, Harry as Erestor. Part of the Letters Universe.


Disclaimer: Made purely for fun, not profit. Belongs to Tolkien. And JKR. Not me. Never.

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><p>"Once upon a time, there was the most boring elf that ever existed. Her- ah, I mean, HIS name was...Ereston. Yes."<p>

"Brilliant."

"I always am. AS I was saying before being interrupted-"

"I was just making the story more entertaining. Barely a dozen words in and I feel completely bored to tears."

"Then you can leave me be, and I will take my story telling talents to some elf who appreciates fine tale-tellings."

"Oh no, I would never inflict this on anyone else. This is practically a public service."

"I have barely even started, if you could keep the condescension and sarcasm down to something _slightly_ less disruptive than a full-scale orc invasion, I would be greatly appreciative."

"..."

"Thank you. As I was saying, this elf was named Ereston. His favorite thing to do was give other people tasks that were quite difficult and exceedingly long and excruciatingly dull. But it brought a small beacon of joy to his cold, dull heart, the dark kind of joy that also finds entertainment in kicking kittens, denying pay raises, and dipping hair braids into inkwells."

"Enthralling."

"Hush. So, this cold, short elf lived his frigid little life tormenting others and growing colder and duller as the years passed by. No one ever got rid of him though, because he was very sly and clever, and there needs to be at least one very sly and clever kind of elf in every council, if only so that the nicer elves can lay blame for their failings on the villainous- I mean, clever elf.

"Thus lay the state of things for years, until one day, a Significant Change Occurred. There came to this settlement- called Thrivendell, if you were wondering-"

"I really was not."

"There came to _Thrivendell_ a very bright, beautiful maiden with sunlight for hair and the sky for eyes-"

"I _will_ be sick if you continue thus-"

"And song itself for voice. She was quickly considered the prize jewel of Thrivendell, and all loved her. Except, of course, our cold sly little elf. In his heart there stirred something even darker than ever held before, fearing the light brought by the maiden, shrinking in fear of what she could expose in him. The maiden herself was filled with pity for the poor lonely creature-"

"Excuse me?"

"And sought, from the kindness that was her very nature, to give him aid. And so she attempted to befriend the pitiful-"

"I will show you pitiful, you misbegotten-"

"Now now, what happened to 'The Voice of the story is NOT the Voice of the Author'?"

"When you decided to warp reality and pretend it was a work of badly imagined fiction, that went out the window. Now-"

"I have to finish telling the story!"

"So far, the only thing horrific about the story is it's very existence."

"You are cruel."

"I am not indulging you any further. Plus, it is HOT under all these sheets, and I think you forgot to ventilate properly, these candles are going to suffocate us both."

"I need them for atmosphere!"

"OR you could just wait until night, when all good horror stories are told, and stop interrupting me during important work."

"I will give you all my apple desserts for the next week."

"You have promised them to me all ready."

"What?"

"Remember? If I got you out of that meeting with-"

"Oh, yes. Now I remember."

"Hmm. I wonder how many times you have promised my desserts to others."

"Only to you, my lovely-"

"Stuff it."

"Yes, m'lady."

"Thank you. Although I also have to wonder how you managed to convince Lindir to let you borrow his pillows. His special 'imported from Minas Tirith made from sacred caterpillar silk etc.,' pillows. The ones only touched under penalty of death."

"..."

"And is that not the new cloak Melpomaen was showing yesterday?"

"..."

"So I will ask once more. How many people have you promised my desserts to?"

Fortunately for our unappreciated bard, the window was open, and the spell (which sizzled uncomfortably close to his *ahem* posterior) missed, turning the tree outside said window an unfortunate shade of blind-me-yellow. Thus ended the one and only attempt of Glorfindel O' Gondolin (and currently of Rivendell) to make his living as a wandering storyteller.

Happily, Erestor eventually recovered from the trauma, Melpomaen regained his cloak, and Lindir his pillows. Glorfindel also recovered, although he spent a great deal of time sulking when Erestor refused to let him share his story in the Hall of Fire.

His next attempt was at musicianship, which actually turned out quite well. Now if he would only stop trying to incorporate "The Tale of a Boring Seneschal" into the general repertoire, all would be well.

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><p>Okay, so I am not entirely satisfied with the ending, but I wanted to get the "Halloween special" out ON Halloween, so...<p>

As ever, thank you for reading and reviewing.


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